Just a dream
by Tuppence
Summary: What if Julia was right? What if it had all been just a dream? What if the entire Real Folk Blues was all just a dream that Spike had the night that Faye and Ed had left? Rating changed due to language. Pairings are S/J; S/F and V/J R R
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Ok, so I reheard the Real Folk Blues again, today, for the first time in ages. It reminded me of all of the pain and angst that was present in Spike, so I want to make this quite angst-ridden and despairing really. It's an AU. It takes place the night Faye and Ed both leave, but before the Real Folk Blues.

As always, I don't own Cowboy Bebop.

**Just a dream**

**Chapter I**

There were times when Spike found it hard to live. Breathing would feel like such a pointless activity and all he could think about was the feeling of not having Julia with him. Sometimes when this happened, he fell asleep and dreamt of Julia. Other times, he went to bed thinking about something else and dreamt of Julia, waking up with that burning ache in his heart and that sinking feeling in his gut. It was one of those nights this night. He had dreamt of Julia – that Julia had died, that Annie had died, and that both he and Vicious had died. And he had woken up feeling relieved, only for that to be replaced by that painful, endless yearning that he had had since he had last seen Julia.

In times like these, breaking down in tears was more than inadequate. It would do nothing to ease the pain. Going out and nearly dying felt meaningless, because he would still be alive afterwards, with the same ache, sometimes dull and sometimes sharp. Shouting at Jet meant nothing, because who was Jet compared to Julia anyway? And he never even thought about Faye because why would he think about her? Nothing would work to dull his ache, so he would try and bear it, because that was all he could do.

So tonight, when he woke up, trying desperately to catch something of Julia's – her smell, the touch of her hair, her smile, _anything_ – and when he captured nothing of Julia's, he felt that familiar, all-consuming pain gripping him. He tried to lie down and just wait it out. It would eventually become duller, until he went back to that familiar background pain that he always felt.

He thought about that dream – the despair he had felt when he had seen her die, when he had felt her die in his arms, as her last breath left her. It hurt too much to think about that. It hurt much too much to think about her if he could help it. He thought instead about Vicious. That empty look in his eyes, it had looked much like despair too. Miserable, despairing, cruel – yes, these words described Vicious well. He thought about how he had felt in his dream, as he had killed Vicious finally. He had felt as if a burden had lifted from his shoulders. He had felt like it was the end. The final end – the point where he wouldn't return, and it almost had been the end. As he had felt himself dying in his dream, he had woken up to this familiar hell.

He thought about Julia. He always thought about Julia. No matter how hard he tried, his thoughts always returned to Julia. It was Julia. Of course they would return to her. Why hadn't he run away with her? What had been the point of returning to fight Vicious? Even as he was lying in his bed, he shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear some fog. There had been something – he couldn't remember what. The choice had made sense to him in the dream, even if it didn't now. What had it been? Maybe that could show him a way out of this hell? No. He just couldn't remember what it had been.

He realised suddenly that he wasn't feeling hungry. For once, there had been more than enough food to go around. Eggs – the ones that Ed's father had given them. It had been enough to fill all of them. All of them being Jet and himself, because Faye and Ed, and even Ein had gone. He thought he would think about them instead, because this sharp pain made his throat hurt from feeling like he was being throttled by tears.

He wondered where Ein was, and then wondered how he could ask such a stupid question. Ein was with Ed. Where else would Ein be? He thought about Ed, and wondered where she was now. He found himself feeling glad that Ein had gone with Ed. At least it would provide Ed with some protection. Ein was pretty smart for a dog, after all. He thought about Ed and Faye. Ok, so the dog was smarter than kids and wenches too. His lips twitched at the sides, and he recognised the sharp pain as being much duller. It made it easier to continue breathing. It didn't make breathing worthwhile but he could continue breathing without wanting to stop now.

His mind went back to Ed. Where was she? Why had she left? Some more questions without answers, so he tried to stop thinking about them. His mind instead turned towards Faye, and he felt a familiar irritation overcoming him, even as he merely thought about her. Where was the damn wench? How long was she going to be gone for this time? He thought about the last time he saw her. She had apologised. That memory brought a sort of sinking feeling to his stomach – nowhere near as painful as the feeling Julia gave him but it wasn't pleasant either. It was remarkably out of character of Faye to apologise and he felt like there was some importance attached to that apology. He felt like he was missing something – some piece of the puzzle that was that shrew, but he didn't really care about it. It was just a distraction – something to lessen the perpetual pain that he felt. But she was making him sleepy – he could feel his eyelids getting heavier and he let his eyes close. At least in the dreams, he could smell Julia and feel Julia and watch Julia.

Sleep overtook Spike whilst Faye continued staring at the sky. She looked at the stars and the broken moon; fragments of lost souls drifting like her, or so she thought. It was a horribly miserable night, and she felt like she had died. She had lost her hope, her innocence. She had most definitely lost faith that there was anything good out here, in this new world that she had never belonged to. Better that she should have died in that accident, all those years ago. Yes, that would have been much better. It would have been less frightening and it wouldn't make her feel the anguish she had felt for every single day of the last three years and more. What life was worth living, if it was full of anguish?

As she watched the stars and the broken moon, she let memories wash over her; familiar memories that she had forgotten for so many years. She let the emotions overwhelm her completely, submerging her entire soul into whatever memory was replaying itself in her mind, the emotions wilting from pain to happiness to hope and back to despair. She let one memory after another take over her. She didn't know what else she could do. What else was there to do? Every memory was as painful as any other.

She bit her bottom lip and continued to gaze blindly at the excruciating sight of the modern mood and she continued to let the memories take over her. It was all she could do tonight. It was all she had ever been able to do. Just for one night, she told herself. She lied to herself. She knew it wouldn't be for just one night. It would be for every night hereafter. It would be everyday hereafter. Whether she wanted to or not, she would replay these memories and it would remind her of all that she had lost and all that she could never regain. It would remind her of why life wasn't worth living, and what could she do about it?

She could feel her eyes slowly getting heavier. It was about time. She didn't know how long she had been there, staring at the sky but it had been for longer than she had wanted, much longer. Dreams were a refuge and she was in desperate need of a refuge tonight. So she welcomed sleep with open arms, inviting it to take over her. And she fell asleep with the hope that the future wouldn't look so bleak tomorrow. She didn't really believe it but she pretended to. The future couldn't look bleaker, in any case.

**Author's Note:** I hope you guys enjoyed reading it. Please review it, whether you enjoyed it or not. It's the only way I know I'm doing something right or something wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:** Ok, so I'm riding a Cowboy Bebop high at the moment. This chapter done in almost record time, for me.  And the story is coming along nicely – I know just where I want this to go and how to end it. It's not too much dialogue but it will start increasing in the next few chapters. It's starting to follow come of the Real Folk Blues storyline, but still differing from it substantially. I really hope you guys enjoy it. Even if you don't, please review and give me your opinions.

**Just a dream**

**Chapter II**

The day had passed like a nightmare, one he couldn't wake up from. Although Spike would have ordinarily described the entire last three years and more as a nightmare (especially the time since he had first met Faye the Infamous), it had never truly had the nightmare quality where he tried and tried to remember something, but just couldn't. He had felt like this all day and now it was nearly over, but he still felt like he was missing something vital – some piece of information he desperately needed.

He and Jet were in the hangar, ready to get drunk and bitch about how ungrateful the whole bunch of them were – the whole bunch of them pretty much personified by Faye. They always bitched about Faye. He couldn't actually remember what they used to talk about before Faye came along, come to think of it. He shrugged this thought away and looked at his Swordfish pensively. There was something nagging him in the back of his mind, and on a pure whim, he turned to Jet. "Why don't we just get some drinks and stay on the Bebop tonight?" He couldn't explain why he said that but it was said.

He avoided Jet's eyes as Jet looked at him closely, no doubt trying to understand where that request came from. Since Spike himself didn't know why, he couldn't imagine what conclusion Jet would arrive at but he arrived at one nonetheless. Nodding, he grunted an assent and got into his Hammerhead. "I'll pick them up. You look after the Bebop." And with that, he had gone, leaving Spike all alone, wondering what the hell was wrong today.

Making his way towards the yellow couch, he lay on it, hoping to catch a nap but his mind refused to stop thinking. There was something missing, something that he should remember. And something was going to happen but what was it? He decided that it must be the emptiness of the Bebop that was getting to him. He'd gotten too used to kids, animals and wenches raising hell around here. Well, he'll finally be able to enjoy the peace and quiet now.

His smirk felt forced, just the way that thought had felt forced. More annoying still, he kept wondering what trouble that woman had gotten herself into. There was no doubt in his mind that she had gotten herself into trouble. Ever since he had met her, she had done nothing but get into trouble; she had done _absolutely nothing else_. He could feel his eyebrows twitching with familiar annoyance. His eyebrows had never twitched this much before the Bebop had been raided by everyone, and no one had made them twitch as much as that Shrew had. He moved around, trying to find a comfortable spot that would help him sleep until Jet returned but this was rendered moot when he heard the hangar door opening from a distance.

"The whiskey looks good."

"Yeah, it is." Jet set two shot glasses on the table and poured the liquid out. Drinking it in one, Jet began with the complaints. "Damn selfish woman. I knew she was trouble the second I saw her. I _knew _she would bring us hell if we took her up. And we did it anyway. We let her stay here, eat our food, saved her ass more than once, and what does she do? She runs away. At least she didn't take our money this time." He poured himself another glass as Spike frowned into his, before drinking it. It didn't sound right. Faye ran away without taking the money? There was an unpleasant feeling in his stomach that he chose to ignore. Whiskey was better than thinking about crap like that any day, so he poured some more for himself and drank it.

"Wonder when that Shrew is coming back." He replied to Jet, raising his second shot glass of Whiskey to his lips. As if on cue, the communicator screen rang with an incoming signal. Switching it on, he saw Faye's face in the screen and drank the Whiskey. He needed stimulation to deal with this.

"Um...oh, is that you Spike? Where are you guys?"

He didn't pick up the discordant notes in her voice or the bags under her eyes. The two shots of Whiskey were far more effective, even when his stomach was full of eggs. He heard Jet grunt with dissatisfaction. "What do you want Faye?"

"I...was wondering..." Again, he didn't notice her tired sigh or her slightly quivering lower lip. "I was going to come back..." Her voice trailed off. Before Spike could say anything, Jet had intervened.

"You left." He accused her. "_You're_ the one that left and _you're _the one who's always leaving, so we're fed up of that, and _you're _not allowed to come back here." His words were half-hearted, really, but the alcohol made it sound worse, made it sound serious. Faye didn't know about the alcohol and she didn't know about how Jet always said this, and she took it all at face value. She was too tired to do anything else anyway.

"Oh, come on Jet. Don't be such a baby about it." Her words were less than half-hearted. They were a pathetic attempt at a facade that was fast falling away, no matter how hard she tried to hold on to it, capture it again, _believe _in it again.

"Go away Faye." And with that, Jet turned off the communication. Spike felt an urge to switch it on again, to tell Faye to come back and stop being an idiot, stop accepting the surface and look deeper, but he resisted it. There was that feeling again, the feeling that he was forgetting something, something vitally important that was at the edge of his memories but slipping further away the more he tried to recapture it. But it was slipping away, the way Faye's facade was slipping away, and he turned to Whiskey. Whiskey would make him forget this feeling, or at least ignore it, and it would comfort him as he thought of blue eyes, blonde hair and a lost angel.

It was advanced morning when he woke up. Well, afternoon. He couldn't hear Jet anywhere, so he assumed that Jet was still sleeping. He had another dream last night, one just as disturbing as the night before. He thought he recalled Faye and blood, but there shouldn't be anything disturbing in that really. Faye was a bounty hunter, she hurt her bounties and they hurt her. It's the way it was. So what if there was more blood in this dream than usual, and so what if he thought that Faye had died in his dream? More worrying was the idea that he had dreamt about Faye at all. But there was that uncomfortable feeling again. What was he forgetting?

He stumbled along the cold floor into the living area and he sat down, staring blankly at the TV. The Bebop felt empty right now. It didn't feel peaceful or tranquil. It felt lost and empty, and he wondered if that was how all of them felt. Did even Ed feel lost and empty sometimes? He thought about her hyperactivity and he shook his head. But he still wondered...did she feel lost and empty, underneath all that hyperactivity?

He searched for a cigarette, longing for its solace, trying to bring back scents that helped him pretend Julia was near him. The nicotine and the drugs had long ceased to work on him. It was the familiarity that was soothing. He clicked a lighter and he lit his cigarette and he puffed it, feeling the relief that went with the familiarity of the action, as a beeping indicated a call. Accepting it, he saw Faye.

"Where are you? I have a message for you."

Spike thought about swearing at her and ending the communication. The plan had merits. Firstly, it would annoy Faye – always a desirable end. Secondly, he would be able to smoke in peace and ponder the unnerving silence of the Bebop. Lastly, it would mean he didn't have to talk to Faye. When he looked at her, though – looked at her closely – he finally noticed the bags under her eyes and the nervous fiddling of her fingers. Something was definitely wrong, and even though he would kill himself before admitting it, he didn't want to put Faye through too much crap – not all the time, anyway. So he sighed and gave the co-ordinates. His information was acknowledged by a sharp nod from Faye, but she continued looking at him. He was again assailed by the notion that there was _something important missing;_ something important that he had to remember but he just couldn't. "Reach here soon, Faye." The words were out before he realised that he had said them, and he was just as surprised as Faye looked, but it was over and done with.

Faye ended the communication and leaned back in her seat, sighing loudly and running a nervous right hand through her hair. She'd seen Julia. And she'd seen why Spike was so madly in love with her. It was a bad situation, a dangerous one, but...what the fuck was she supposed to do? Julia had asked her to relay the message so she had to. Right? _Right?_ Damn it, what was she supposed to do? Let Julia fend for herself? But she hadn't said she would pass the message onto Spike, Julia had assumed she would. So it was her own fault for believing that, right? She bit her lower lip hard, as she leaned forward to start the engine but stopped.

Instead, she grabbed a cigarette and lit it, smoking it deeply. She hated the position she was in, and she had a feeling it was going to end badly. Maybe she would even die. She tried not to be pleased by that idea but she failed, so she chose to ignore it. She'll tell Spike. She'll tell Spike if...he looked like he could handle it. She frowned. When did she start worrying about Spike? It was...worrying, for a lack of a better word. She dropped her cigarette and crushed it under her toe. She leaned forward and started the engine. She wouldn't be able to make a decision on how best to screw herself up unless Spike was around, so time to find Spike and get screwed over by him _again_. Damn lunkhead.

**Author's note:** So...somebody's (possibly) going to die next chapter...but who will it be? Any bets being placed? I really hope you enjoyed the chapter. I was surprised by the lack of dialogue myself, but I hope it isn't too dry. I tried to instil the kind of surreal nightmare qualities nightmares have...but let me know if it worked or if it didn't work. Basically, please review. I hope you enjoyed it. ~ Tuppence ~


End file.
